


C is for Cat

by GlutenFreeWaffles



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Brain Damage, Caretaking, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Mild Gore, Regression, Steve questions his morality, Superhusbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlutenFreeWaffles/pseuds/GlutenFreeWaffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about permanent brain damage is that it typically doesn't have regards for the complexities of marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	C is for Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This work is not meant to fetishize its contents. There are morality obstacles presented in the text that may cause discomfort.

Sometimes Steve wondered whether it was a miracle or a burden that Tony lived through the operation.

When they’d found him, the suit was mangled into an unrecognizable shape. The torso was split open just enough to allow the river of blood streaming from shoulder plate stab wounds to flow into a puddle on the pavement under him. He was almost unrecognizable; a bloodied beaten pulp of gore, drenched in blood, brain hanging halfway out of his skull, 57 bones broken, and jaw dislocated.

Steve hadn’t screamed when they found him. The only screaming he’d done was alone in the church across the street from the hospital, for he prayed the entire duration of Tony’s surgery.

Shockingly, after 22 hours, Tony survived. And after two weeks of healing, drugged to the point of unconsciousness, they allowed Steve to wheel him home. 

 

It wasn’t until five days afterwards that the doctor’s realized Tony Stark suffered irreversible brain damage, and could never be smart again.

 

It wasn’t like Steve was expecting him to bounce back to normal. His husband was left nearly dead, resembling a can of Thanksgiving cranberry sauce that had been dropped on the floor and stepped on. But he didn’t expect this.

 He didn’t expect he’d have to re-teach Tony the alphabet. To help him learn how to use his words, form sounds, use the bathroom. But he loved him unconditionally. And he was there for every slow vowel, accident, and goodnight kiss.

 

* * *

 

“Tony, you’re not listening,” He warned as Tony continuously uncapped and recapped the washable marker they used for lessons. He had a plate on the back of his head, and even though the incident happened months ago, there was still gauze to tend to and areas to be wary of when Tony was bathed.

 He sighed and resorted to showing Tony the stack of alphabet cards. They had pictures he seemed to enjoy.

 He held up the one with the strutting orange cartoon cat. “What letter, Tony?”

 Tony studied the card and scribbled a messy “C” on the white board behind him.

 Steve flashed an empty smile. “Good…” He said before holding up the picture of the grey elephant.

 

Tony drew an “F”.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the team was pathetic. They didn’t even try to hide their pity.

 

It was probably because they were all surprised Steve stuck through the marriage. Decided to be Tony’s caregiver, as he had previously promised, through better or worse.

Bruce tried to help with lessons.

Tony was only ever responsive to Steve.

 

* * *

 

Steve couldn’t go out anymore. He could barely do his part as Captain America.

He worked on government formalities, overlooked paperwork, attended the occasional video meeting. But Tony couldn’t be left alone.

Natasha tried to convince him to come out for a casual movie.

Steve wasn’t even able to hesitate before declining. 

 

* * *

  

Tony had a handful of uncomfortable faces that Steve had perfected differentiating.

When he combines a look of depression and shame, it means he has to relieve himself. 

Steve remembers early in their marriage. Tony was far from, but slowly coming around to, the idea of adopting a baby.

“But they poop,” he had insisted during one of their debates. “They shit their pants and then cry until _you_ get off your ass and take care of it for them. That’s manipulation.”

Each time Steve changed Tony he had to remind himself it was, arguably, adoration and patience.

 

Though changing diapers now was a completely different scenario than the one he’d imagined during fantasy games of his future life.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve’s proud the first time Tony spells out “Anthony” on the whiteboard.

 

“Good job!” He grins widely, wrapping Tony in a proud hug.

 

Tony’s smile doesn’t match his blank eyes.

  

* * *

 

“Hungry,” Tony complains in bed one night. Steve’s up on his side, flipping through a file he has to annotate and assess by the next morning. 

“Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.”

Steve closes the file. “It’s time to _sleep_ , Tony. You can eat in the morning.”

Tony doesn’t understand. He points to his stomach to make sure Steve does.

Steve sighs. “I _know_ baby…” He rolls over to spoon Tony in tight hug and pepper his neck with light kisses, resulting in a little noise and squirm from under him. “I’ll rub your stomach, okay? Help you fall asleep.”

Tony stops fidgeting and stays completely still, staring unblinking ahead at nothing like an unfazed daydreamer.

“Shh…” Steve croons as he lifts Tony’s sleep shirt and rubs soft circles on his stomach.  
  
Tony whines.

As Steve learned, it wasn’t uncommon for brain-damaged people to get aroused by nonsexual stimulation. Hell, _vegetables_ got erections, Steve had found out from Tony’s surgeon.

Each time Tony’s cock hardened and pressed up against the fabric of his underwear, Steve had to bite his lip and force his eyes off of it.

 

* * *

 

His sex life was miserable.

 

He must have masturbated ten times a week, at the least.

Tony had been such an incredible lover.

Tony always focused on Steve’s pleasure, making sure Steve always relaxed and comfortably turned on. When they made love it was like he was living to cater Steve’s needs, operating him like a well oiled machine that had flips and switches for every moan and twitch emitted from his body.

 

Tony couldn’t do that anymore.

 

* * *

 

Everyone tried to convince Steve that a team dinner would be a nice social break. 

Steve didn’t have much say in how they came around to that decision.

Friday night everyone was seated around the long glass table in Stark’s lavish dining hall.

Steve helped Tony eat. Like any other day.

He hated the way everyone pretended not to stare as he spoon-fed Tony the finely cut pieces of chicken. 

“I love you,” he whispers as he aids Tony in finishing his water.

  

* * *

 

Steve couldn’t stand the thoughts that came to him sometimes. 

The snuck into his ear as Tony’s curled up against him when they watch TV. They penetrated the lobes of his brain with each song Steve sang softly as he put Tony to sleep. Every brush of baby powder on Tony’s naked waist stirred them into a frenzy charged by the electricity zipping through his mind. 

 

He’s the only man in the world who feels guilty about wanting to have sex with his husband.

 

On one hand, it was _Tony._ His loving spouse. The man that pushed Steve to embrace sexuality and always put his sexual needs before his own. The Casanova of the century. The love of his life.

On the other hand, Tony was brain damaged. He had the mental capability of a young child. He wet himself on daily basis. He could barely say Steve’s name. He wasn’t capable of consenting or asking for sex; regardless of how many boners he sprung.

 

* * *

 

One day Steve can’t hold back.

 

* * *

  

It was late. Steve had been working with Tony all day. He hadn’t had time for a quickie in the bathroom.

For some reason, Tony refused to wear his pajamas.

 

Steve dressed him in his shirt. Tony took it off.

 

Steve put him in boxers. Tony took them off.

 

It’s a childish game of back and forth until Steve gives up because there is literally no use in punishing someone who does and can not ever understand what it is they’re doing wrong.

And because Tony was naked, he started to play with himself.

It was completely innocent. He scratched his crotch, hugged Steve so that it presses against him. He was hard in nearly no time.

And he was _Tony_ for godssakes. _Naked_ Tony. With an erection.

Tony liked to feel. He liked to know Steve is there. Rub his hands over his chest and through his hair. Chuckle softly as if he’s been caught when Steve looked at him.

 

Steve started touching back.

 

He gently pushed down on Tony’s shoulder to recline him against the mattress before attaching sucking lips to Tony’s neck. Tony made a small squeaking noise as he was tickled the tongue that rubbed harshly against the massaging circles provided by Steve’s lips.

He rubbed Tony’s side, sliding them and feeling him up and down.

 

_It’d been so long._

Steve emitted a little whine the same time Tony did, taking things slow despite how desperate it all was.

He wasn’t looking for reciprocation, romance, pacing…

He wanted to fuck Tony Stark now.

On the nightstand was the bottle of lube Steve used for himself. Shaky hands grabbed it while Tony lay almost motionless under him. He turned his head to watch as Steve popped the cap open and immediately worked it up and down his quickly hardening shaft.

“Gonna feel so good baby…” Steve was mostly muttering to himself as he thumbed his head. “I love you so much.”

Tony smiled gently.

Steve circled a hefty amount of lube around Tony’s hole, pushing in as far as he could before Tony started squirming and whining. 

“Shh…” He promised sweetly with each loving stroke. “I love you so much Tony. I love you so much…”

He lined up his cock with Tony’s entrance and slowly pushed in.

It was rushed and sloppy with imperfections but it was the best Steve could do as, slowly, he starts to thrust back and forth.

Tony made small noises; almost whimpers, but with no indication of pain.

He held on tightly to the toned arms planted on each side of his torso, staring up at Steve as the sensation built in his lower core.

 Steve tried not to lose control. He couldn’t go too fast. He would never dream of hurting Tony, even if accidentally. He missed the dirty talk. Missed Tony’s “fuck”s and “Oh _baby_ ”s. The feverish rounds they engaged in when Tony threw in words like “slut” and “cock.” The countless positions. The oral sex. The exciting memories flooded Steve’s mind to the point of drowning; organized thoughts like oxygen slowly bleeding out the picture.

 He curled a hand around Tony’s cock and stroked it in time. Tony emitted a high whine from the back of his throat, body rocking hesitatingly against Steve’s, head turned to the side with one of his fingers pressed into his mouth.

Steve’s other hand grabbed onto Tony’s hip so tight he didn’t realize he was bruising the skin until he let go of his hold to readjust himself.

 

In and out. In and out. Not too hard.

 

Tony cums with a sharp breath.

 

Steve latched onto his neck again, devouring his delicate skin, swallowing his collarbone.

 

He only stopped to climax inside of Tony.

 

* * *

 

The sensation Steve felt afterwards was a nonsmokers desire for a cigarette.

 

He threw up in the bathroom.

 

He used a tissue to clean up Tony, who reached for his hand tiredly in order to squeeze it. Steve couldn’t help but grin sympathetically as he squeezed back.

“Moon,” Tony mumbled.

 

He felt vile.

 

“Goodnight moon,” Steve recited quietly, kissing Tony’s cheek and snuggling next to him. Something in his lower abdomen felt like it was going to burst.

“Steve…” Tony whispered, dozing off with a mewl.

“Goodnight cow jumping over the moon…”

Steve didn’t bother to wipe away the tear that leaked from his lower lid. It fell onto Tony’s chest.

 

* * *

 

“I’m thinking about bringing Tony to a home,” Steve admitted one morning to Pepper.

“… A home?” Pepper asked. “I thought homes were for the elderly.”

Steve helped Tony with a dribble of food left on the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah… Maybe “home” was the wrong word. Somewhere he can be taken care of properly.” _Somewhere they didn’t have sex with him._

Pepper frowned. “To be honest, Steve, I sometimes think you’re the _only one_ capable of caring for someone like Tony.”

Steve winced. He hadn’t told anyone. He wasn’t going to.

 

* * *

 

He found a housing center for adults with brain injuries. The pictures online looked beautiful. As beautiful as a residential clinic could be.

“Would you want to live there, Tony?” He asked, showing him the website.

Tony pets a finger up and down the back of Steve’s neck. “Ste.”

“They have very nice people there.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince Tony. “They’re with you all day and all night. And they know just how to treat you… 

“Ste.. St… Eve…” He whined.

“Mm… What is it honey? Do you have to go?”

Tony thought and nodded.            

“Alright. Lets go. Good job, Tony. You told me. Good job.”

 

* * *

 

He called the company and spoke to Cheryl.

“We embrace art,” she promised after listing some of the available activities for patients.

“We have a fully knowledgeable staff complete with professionals,” she added after noticing Steve’s uncertainty.

“You’re allowed to come down and see-“

He hung up.

 

* * *

 

 “Swallow, Tony.”

 

Tony stared at the TV, not listening.

 

“Tony, swallow your food.”

 

Tony groaned.

 

* * *

 

Steve found a copy of video from his wedding in JARVIS’ database.

He left the icon of the file loitering on the main screen in their bedroom for four days before gathering the courage to open it.

 

Everyone seemed to be smiling.

“You’re eyes are blue. You’re kisses too. I never knew what they could do. I can’t believe that you’re in love with me. You’re telling everyone you know that I’m on your mind each place you go. I can’t believe that you’re in love with-… Wait, no. Hold on. Those aren’t my vows, those are the lyrics to a Billie Holiday song.”

Steve and the onlookers laughed at the joke. Tony smirked and took Steve’s hands.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” He grinned softly. “I’ve had a handful of failures in my life, Moments… actions… _years_ that called for redemption. Steve… I just want you to know that… I would make all of those mistakes again if it meant not messing up things with you. You balance me out. You’re the yin to my yang, if you want to get clichéd with it. No offense to any Taoists in the room. No, but really Steve I am a better man because of you. In every sense of the expression. You challenge me. You make me think. You show me sides to the world I couldn’t ever possibly conceive on my own.”

 

Steve bit back a sad grin, allowing the tears to stream silently down his face.

 

“You’re a miracle for me, Rogers. And I don’t use that term lightly. You’ve helped me in more ways than you could ever imagine. Ever since I was a little kid with a Captain America poster hanging over my bed.”

 

Steve’s small laugh came out as a sob.

 

“I know six languages, Steven. And in none of them can I string together the right combination words to show just _how much_ I love you. It’s an honor to know you, a privilege to be your friend, and a blessing to be your love. And no matter what you’re going through, I will try my hardest, to the best of my ability, to aid you. For better or worse. Rich or poor. Sickness or wellbeing. I will go to the ends of the galaxy for you.”

 

Steve wept.

He turned it off and never wanted to watch it again, his crying augmenting in volume every half-minute.

 Tony came in from the other room, frowning immediately the second he recognized Steve’s distress. Without a word, he approached Steve, wrapped his arms around his torso, and held him.

“Shh…” Tony mimicked.

 

“Shh…”

* * *

 

 

Fan content:

 


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